Star Wars Rebels: You're Not Here
by SpecSeven
Summary: I'm pretty sure I'm going to get hate mail on this one. This is a short story that takes place after the Battle of Jakku, which Hera Syndulla has just barely survived. While in the bacta tank, she confronts a literal spectre from the past. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK AND DON'T SEND ME HATE MAIL PLEASE


"General Syndulla, can you hear me?"

Hera opened her eyes. She tried to move, but she couldn't feel her body.

"General Syndulla? Can you speak?"

She couldn't. Her eyes searched the room and the face just within her line of sight; the face was one she didn't recognize, and the room looked to be one inside a med center.

 _What happened?_ _I remember..._

She remembered the _Ghost_ taking the critical hit from that Star Destroyer, she remembered the klaxons blaring and Chopper's garbled warnings. She saw the sands of Jakku rushing up, too fast, much too fast. There wasn't enough time. _Brace for impact!_

She felt her ship slam into the sand, shuddering and breaking apart around her; she heard all the horrifying noises it made. She felt pain- too much pain. And above all of it, she heard his voice, calling her name.

Then, nothing.

Nothing, until now- and now, suddenly, she felt _everything_. Her body came back to her as shocking, searing, unbearable pain.

She screamed. The sound tore at her throat as it ripped out of her. The unknown face above her instantly disappeared, and a second later, appeared again.

"Something for the pain," the man murmured, and a moment later, the terrible agony began to abate.

Hera's eyelids drifted closed. She could hear a steady pounding inside her skull, and just beyond that, faint voices. She only caught bits and pieces of what they said:

"...lucky to be alive. The droid saved her..."

"...she has burns over ninety percent of her body. We're prepping the bacta tank now that she's more stable..."

"...could be months of recovery and physical therapy..."

She drifted in and out of consciousness, detached from whatever the voices around her were saying about her- and then something caught her full attention.

"...kept mentioning someone named Kanan. Is that someone we can contact?"

Now she heard a voice she recognized- Zeb's. Relief washed over her, but only for a moment.

"No." Zeb's voice was rough. "Not unless you can contact someone who's been dead for years."

Now the pain that pierced through her came from the inside, and in many ways, this misery was far worse than the physical pain she felt. There were no painkillers, no bacta tanks, that could ever relieve it. The dull ache in her heart would be there as long as she breathed.

For just one brief moment, Hera wished that she had broken apart along with her ship. She wished Chopper had not saved her. She was so tired; tired of fighting, tired of missing him. Tired of pain, and sleepless nights, and unshed tears.

But Hera was a fighter; she had endured so much, and she would endure more before it was all over. Her mind rejected the idea of giving up almost as quickly as the thought occurred.

Exhausted, she drifted further away from consciousness now, moving through memories of her childhood on Ryloth, and of her mother and father. She saw herself learning to fly, and then leaving her home. Her memories shifted, and she was in the caverns on Cynda, watching Kanan. A darkened street, a seedy bar, a catwalk crashing down on her, and Kanan. Kanan's face, his voice, his laugh, as she flashed through a million memories of their life together.

She was overwhelmed, overcome, and her heart was breaking all over again. Had it ever stopped breaking? She didn't know. And then she was sitting in the cockpit of the _Ghost_ , as it floated in some lonely corner of space. She was alone on the ship; she stared out into the sparkling expanse, as the pain she had never really let herself feel grew inside her, unchecked. The lump in her throat began to ache, and her eyes burned; she could not hold it back any longer. Hera burst into tears, wracked with anguish and weeping uncontrollably. This was no memory; she had never allowed herself to mourn Kanan like this. When the grief was fresh, it had seemed to her like a bottomless, black chasm. She stood on the precipice, terrified that one step over the edge would cause her to fall in and, outwardly, to fall apart. Breaking down was simply not an option; it had never been an option. So she'd stepped back from the edge, and some of the people around her thought her cold. They didn't understand what it cost her, to put Kanan behind her and move forward like that.

Hera sat there, weeping and hugging herself, for what seemed like it might have been days, or perhaps months.

And then she heard footsteps moving up the corridor towards the cockpit. She had believed she was alone; she quieted herself, listening. In shock, she realized that she knew those footsteps as well as she knew her own. It couldn't be...

"Hera."

She did not turn, but she let out an involuntary sob at hearing his voice again. The footsteps came up behind her seat.

"You're not here," she said, her voice thick with tears.

"Neither are you. Turn around."

Using her feet, she slowly swiveled the chair. Her eyes fell on his boots, and she could not make herself look up. And then he dropped to his knees in front of her.

Kanan still had a beard, but his eyes were as they had been before Maul blinded him. Blue-green, and shining with love for her.

She sobbed again, but this time, the pain was combined with joy at seeing his face.

"You're not blind anymore," she gasped, reaching for him.

He pulled her right out of her seat and into his arms, hugging her tightly. "I know," he murmured, kissing her forehead. "It's really nice to be able to see you again."

This started her crying anew, and he held her until she calmed down.

"I'm sorry," she whispered against his neck.

"For what? For crying? Look at me, Hera."

She looked up; Kanan's face was wet with tears, too. Their eyes locked, and moment later, he pulled her even closer and crushed his lips against hers. Hera could taste the salt of their mingled tears on her tongue, and the warm, familiar scent of him filled her nostrils. She clung to him tightly, wishing she could merge their beings into one, so that she would never have to be without him again.

Time passed, or maybe it didn't; Hera didn't know, and didn't care. She would have stayed there with him forever, on the floor of her ship, floating in this mysterious place.

She told him so.

"You can't stay here, Hera," he told her, looking down at her fondly. "You don't belong here. Not yet."

She wanted to protest, but deep down, she knew that he was right. "What's it like?"

"It's not that bad. Time doesn't mean much. I can see you whenever I want. You won't be too surprised to hear that I watch you a lot. You've done amazing things. I'm so proud of you."

"It would've been easier if you'd been beside me."

"But I wasn't, and you did what you had to do anyway. You never needed me the way I needed you," he said, smiling. It was a smile that made her heart ache, but she tried to memorize it anyway.

"I needed you just as much. But I never felt like I was allowed to want those things- not until the Empire was defeated. I never really gave you what _you_ needed, though, did I? I didn't give you what you really wanted, and I regret that now," she told him.

"I just wanted to be with you," he said, looking away from her gaze.

"You wanted more than that, Kanan, and I'm sorry I could never give it to you. You never wanted to be a part of the Rebellion; if I'd just said the word, you would have happily run off to Wild Space with me."

He chuckled softly and brushed her cheek with his fingertips. "I might have; that sounds great. But I knew you were never going to say that word. And I knew you were right not to."

Hera sighed. "Fighting _was_ the right thing to do, but I don't know that I wouldn't just walk away, if I could do it all over. Just to be with you."

"You wouldn't just walk away, if you could do it over, and you know it," Kanan said. "There's no need for regrets. We didn't get the chance we deserved, and that's the only thing I'm truly sorry about. But _you_ still have a chance, Hera...and I want you to use it."

She nodded slowly. "They still need me, don't they?"

"And you'll never stop trying to protect them- all of them- the whole Galaxy. You're a better Jedi than I ever was, that's for sure."

She raised an eyebrow as she ran her fingers through his beard. "That's not true."

He squeezed her. "You always knew how to make me feel better."

They sat on the floor in the cockpit of the _Ghost_ , the place where they'd fallen in love, cradled in each other's arms for a long time. Her head rested on his shoulder, and his cheek pressed against the top of her head. Eventually, Hera felt her eyelids grow heavy, but she forced herself to stay awake.

"I love you, Hera," Kanan murmured. "I'll be here, waiting for you, when the time is right."

"I love you, too, Kanan...and I always will," she whispered. The light around them was dimming, and soon, she felt as though she was drifting among the stars, still wrapped in his arms...

Hera's eyes flew open, and immediately filled with fluid. She blinked, trying to clear it, and then she realized that she was floating in it. _Bacta_ , she thought. And then-

 _Kanan! Oh, stars, let me go back...let me go back..._

Someone tapped on the glass. A med droid. Hera tried to gesture-

 _Put me back under! Whatever it was you gave me, give it to me again!_ The thoughts screamed painfully through her mind, but she couldn't speak due to the respirator in her mouth. She was completely insensible; she had finally stepped into the black chasm, and grief and longing tore her to pieces.

One of the medics came in, and seeing her agitation, had the med droids pull her out of the tank. She ripped the respirator out of her mouth.

"Put me back!" she shouted. "I need to go back!"

The poor medic looked utterly baffled. "You want to go back into the tank?"

"Yes!" Hera yelled. "He was there! I didn't get to say goodbye. I didn't get to say goodbye!"

The medic nodded at one of the droids, who quickly administered something to Hera to calm her. "You'll feel better soon," he told her, in a kind voice.

"No..." she moaned.

 _You still have a chance, Hera...and I want you to use it_.

The days went by, and Hera's injuries slowly healed. She excelled at physical therapy and threw herself fully into any task they gave her. Chopper had been completely repaired, and he was there by her side. Friends came and went, and they found her much the same as they always had.

Only her psychiatrist knew the truth.

Dr. Granta seemed to see right through Hera. She was a calm, cool Chandrilan, and she sat across from Hera with her hands on the armrests of her chair. "Tell me about Kanan."

"I'd rather not."

"The first time we met, you were quite adamant that you talked to him while you were in the bacta tank. You've refused to discuss it since. Why?"

"It didn't really happen, that's why." Hera scowled, fervently wishing she'd never mentioned it. The woman endlessly asked questions about it, and all the questioning only succeeded in dredging up more pain.

"Did it feel real? " Dr. Granta asked.

"Yes, but my understanding is that those painkillers they were giving me can cause hallucinations."

Dr. Granta smiled. "That's true. But it doesn't make it any less real."

Hera raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, but I don't see the logic in that."

"You might be surprised to learn that you're not the first patient I've spoken to who has encountered a loved one after his or her death, and truly believed the interaction was real."

"How can that be?" Hera asked.

"I haven't the slightest idea. But that doesn't make it impossible or untrue. Kanan's connection to the Force could have been a factor. There are many things we don't know about this universe. My point is, if you _felt_ that it was real, then perhaps it _was_ real," Dr. Granta paused, studying Hera's face. "The more logical conclusion is that your brain created the interaction because you compartmentalized and ignored your grief for so many years."

Hera narrowed her eyes. "I had to," she said, with a hard edge to her voice.

"Yes. I agree. I'm not judging you. And because you made that sacrifice, you were able to help defeat the Empire," Dr. Granta said. "It's okay to feel a little compassion towards yourself, though, now that it's all over."

"What do you mean?" Hera asked.

"I mean, it's all right to let yourself feel grief over Kanan, and all the other people you lost, too. We all lost people. We're all grieving. Allowing ourselves to feel that grief is a necessary part of the healing process." Dr. Granta smiled sadly at Hera. "Don't worry about whether seeing Kanan was real, or just in your mind. Let yourself feel that pain, and then let yourself move on from it."

"It doesn't really matter if it was real or not, anyway," Hera sighed. "Even if it's something my own mind created, he told me to live, and that's what I'm going to do."

Author note: AGAIN, PLEASE- NO HATE NOTES! I wouldn't blame you if you did write one, though. I wrote this as a sort of therapy to help me get ahead of things (read: get ahead of a potential depression spiral) in prep for S4. There's actually more to it (which I will revise/add to as necessary later, if need be), but I opted not to add it because I'm would have DEFINITELY gotten a million hate notes. Hopefully I can just delete the whole thing, or just call it a depressing AU- but we all know that Kanan is MLTD (most likely to die). And because he's MLTD, I felt compelled to write this. It's actually loosely based on accounts from people I know well, who were visited by their spouses after the spouses passed- and both people are utterly convinced that it really happened. It's a very heartbreaking thing, though. I hope that Kanan won't die. This isn't me wishing death on him! I'm just trying to be realistic (and preemptively deal with it). I've thought a lot about Hera and her living all the way to the ROTJ era, potentially without Kanan, and how that would look. And the idea of her being this wounded war veteran really struck me hard (I used to work at the VA). I mean, how would she NOT have PTSD, if she made it all the way to the Battle of Jakku? And what would happen after the Empire finally fell, when her job was finally done? What would an older, war vet Hera be like? Would she have regrets? Would she finally let herself grieve, or find happiness, or what? Anyway, I'm sorry (I cried while writing this). Don't write me hate notes!


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